A cool grass hut was set apart for the poor white boy, as the natives called him, and Lily was a most attentive nurse to him. But indeed all the people near by were unremitting in their attentions, not only to Conal, but to everyone in the camp.
This was a country of villages, scattered here and there wherever the water was most plentiful for themselves and the cattle they owned. But scattered though these were, and but sparsely inhabited, yet if the tocsin of war sounded, they speedily flocked to one standard to repel an invading foe. It was a real republic, owning no king or chief, and placing the law in the hands of their elders in virtue of their age and wisdom.
As there was perfect peace and good understanding between these simple pastoral natives and Duncan's little band, the latter were very happy indeed.
Conal got slowly well, but all hands had to remain in this happy land for nearly six weeks before the journey could be renewed.
And poor little Lilywhite stayed here for better or for worse.
Here is how it happened. Shortly before Duncan was about to resume the march towards the big river and city of Lamoo, Carrambo one day came forward, leading a tall and rather ungainly young savage, and addressed Conal as follows:--
"Dis dam young rascal he say you all de same's one fadder to Lily. He want to mally Lily. He gib tree goat foh Lily."
Here he struck the suitor under the chin.
"Hol' you head up, Choo-ka!" he cried. "De white man no eat de likes ob you!"
Choo-ka would have blushed if he hadn't been black.